


The Season

by gardnerhill



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Christmas, Hanukkah, Holidays, Kwanzaa, M/M, Winter Solstice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-30
Updated: 2013-06-30
Packaged: 2017-12-16 15:22:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/863516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gardnerhill/pseuds/gardnerhill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Keep Newtonmas in your way, and let me keep it in mine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Season

Apples. Douglas fir, and apples. Beeswax, honey, hot oil also made their presences known. But overwhelming all the other smells was the sweet cold fresh smells of Washington apples.

Jim almost floated up the stairs, drawn by the odors that beckoned him from behind his apartment door. Pleasantly full of baked goods, eggnog, and cinnamon-laced coffee from the laden break-room at the station, he now looked forward to a quiet evening with Sandburg.

Jim opened the door, and an apple smacked him between the eyes.

"Oh, man, I'm so sorry!"

He could hear Blair running over from the kitchen, feel the air flurries as he moved, smell the starchiness and sting of grated raw potatoes and onions on his hands. By the time Jim had groped his way past the doorway, still rubbing his stinging forehead, he was able to open his eyes once more.

Apples. Apples in a wooden bowl on the coffee table, all colors and shapes and sizes. Apples dangling from threads over the kitchen island, along the staircase, at Blair's office doorway. Several shiny red apples hanging from the small tree in the corner; small yellow apples piled under the menorah on the table like oversized gelt. One large Red Delicious specimen swaying drunkenly from the mistletoe at the apartment's entrance, the culprit that had assaulted Detective Ellison. A Washington Gold at the feet of a large plastic lawn raven on the bookcase. Apples and pastry baking together in the oven, juices bubbling. A red crystal apple candle-holder on the dining table, flanked by containers of applesauce and sour cream.

"You okay, Jim?"

"I'm victim of a drive-by fruiting," Ellison whimpered.

"You're okay," Blair said, and returned to an evil-looking gray mush in a bowl by the wok. "Go clean up for dinner."

The appetizing smell of sizzling potato pancakes greeted Jim when he returned from the bathroom, and he took a good long look at the eclectic apartment. "Chief, someone came by the apartment and appled us. Were they out of T.P.?"

"Guess."

Oh, God, another 'Guess which holiday' game. The menorah and latkes were no-brainers, unlike the tree and mistletoe (Solstice, Jim, not Christmas). Blair had explained the Tlingit story of Raven bringing the sun to the world to account for the ugly black bird with the gold ball at its feet. "Kwanzaa?"

"Nope. Well, I guess the bowl of apples qualifies as 'first fruits,' and we certainly celebrate _Umoja_ every night. That's 'unity,' the first principle." Blair grinned.

" _Umoja_. Shall I tell Simon that one?"

"Go right ahead. Then we can start practicing _Ujaama_ , 'cooperative economics,' when we have to hit up friends for loans while you're on unemployment."

" _Oy gevalt_."

"Speaking of which..." Blair turned off the wok and brought the dishes over to the festooned table. "I figure this and the pie will be enough -- I've been snacking all day too."

"On apples? Was there a sale?"

" _Ess, ess, mein kind_ ," Blair said, indicating Jim's plate. "Don't talk, eat, they'll get cold."

The piping hot latkes with applesauce and sour cream were just the thing to fill the last corner inside Jim, banishing the cold rain outside. He felt peaceful and contented and loved and in love. On December 24, yet. How long had he gone through the motions and felt nothing, or tumbled inside with anxiety and stress?

"It's weird, spending winter solstice in a temperate zone," Blair said, almost as if reading Jim's thoughts. "I'm a lot more used to green Christmases in places where December is hot and sweaty."

"I'm sure we can arrange for something hot and sweaty tonight," Jim said. He plucked a red apple from the table and and leered at Blair as he held it out as an offering. "Wanna bite?"

"I think you ought to know the seven dwarfs will be back any minute, " Blair responded.

"Damn," Jim said, and took a bite. "Can't blame a witch for trying."

"Hey, I've got pie cooking."

"On top of the latkes? Right now I'm craving fruits and vegetables. I'll bring it to work tomorrow. Should be quiet, just me and the other bachelors sharing our goodies."

Blair had a look of pure lust on his face. "The campus library is _all mine_ tomorrow." He covetously fingered the keys in his pocket. "All those stacks of untouched books waiting for me to unlock their secrets..."

"Speaking of secrets, Einstein," Jim hefted his half-eaten apple before his lover, "What's with the produce? Festival of Red Round Things from the tiny island republic of Togo?"

Blair smiled and picked up a Rome Beauty. "Not Einstein." He held the apple over the table and let it go. The round little red apple hit the tabletop with a thud.

Jim frowned. "Isaac Newton?"

"Bingbingbingbingbingbing! You win the bonus round!" Blair picked up the abused fruit and took a bite of his own. "It's Sir Isaac Newton's birthday tomorrow," he said with his mouth full.

"December the twenty-fifth?"

"Correct."

Jim rolled his eyes. "How could I forget? Washington's Birthday, Lincoln's Birthday, Isaac Newton's Birthday."

"He only changed the way human beings looked at the universe. That's something all of us scientist types try to do, and we do it piecemeal. He did the whole shebang, the first guy to do it since Aristotle. He was only upstaged this century by Albert."

"A man, a lord, a god, a king, I agree, Chief. But is he holiday material?"

Blair held up his red-crystal apple candle-holder; inside, a small vanilla votive-candle flickered. "Light, Jim. This time of year, this celebration, is about light.

"The longest night of the year is the night you keep the fire going all night, or else the sun will forget to return. You huddle in your cave with your family and friends, eating high-fat and high-sugar foods like reindeer marrow and honeycomb to keep warm in the bitter cold, and you sing and tell stories to stay awake until the sun comes back. The first solstice celebration.

"The Crone of Winter is marching through the land, and in defiance of her icy touch lights adorn a phallic tree and people kiss beneath the golden bough -- mistletoe.

"Your temple has been destroyed by an enemy trying to outlaw your God. You return after the battle, and there's only enough oil for one night of lamplight. But the light burns for the required eight nights of purification anyway. Hanukkah, the Festival of Lights.

"A new star appears in the sky to lead sages to the place where a peasant child has been born. 'The people that walked in darkness have seen a great light.'

"Raven the Trickster sets the sun in the sky to remind the northern people that, though the night is long and bitter, light will return.

"And an apple falling from a tree leads a man to bring enlightenment to a world shaking off the dregs of a dark age.

"Q.E.D." Blair set the candle down and took another bite of apple.

The timer rang; Blair got up to deal with the pie while Jim cleared the table and set the dishes in the sink.

"How about some music?"

"Go nuts, Chief."

Jim tried to guess what it would be. Tribal chants, drums, Enya, klezmer, Wiccan goddess mantras--

It was the last thing he expected.

Blair came back to help Jim with the dishes while Nat King Cole crooned about roasting chestnuts and Jack Frost.

\- _Mele Kalikimaka_ (Hawaiian)

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this story in 1998. Sometimes you need to re-invent a celebration to truly feel it again. (One LOC thanked me for giving the reader back the joy of the season after all the stress and work of a "traditional" Christmas had bogged her down.)
> 
> Oh, and ask me how freaking thrilled I was when Sheldon produced his bust of Sir Isaac Newton on the Christmas episode of "Big Bang Theory."


End file.
